


Lights, Camera, Action!

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Noctis begins his career in professional pornography with the help of one Gladiolus Amicitia, famous porn star of Insomnia Pictures.





	Lights, Camera, Action!

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the FFXV Kinkmeme. Prompt:
>
>> It was Noct's first scene and he was feeling super nervous about being in front of the camera. Lucky him, he was paired with the famous Gladio who was nothing but helpful and guided him till the end
>> 
>> \+ Bonus for Gladio whispering encouragements in Noct's ears, low enough not to be picked up by the mic  
> \+ Mild praise kink is more than appreciated 
> 
> I've tweaked a few things since I made the initial fill, but most of it remains the same. However, if you prefer the original version, it can be found [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3892.html?thread=5590068#cmt5590068).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

It was a new studio, which normally would’ve been a red flag, had one of the listed scene actors and sponsors not been Gladiolus Amicitia. A veritable star known in almost all circles of the porn industry, Gladio’s name on the studio’s website gave the newly-founded Insomnia Pictures an air of legitimacy that had Noctis throwing what was left of his caution to the wind when he’d gotten their callback last Wednesday.

Not like Gladio was the _only_ factor though, if Noctis was being honest with himself. They’d offered him a lot of dough, enough to pay next month’s rent, at least. He hadn’t been about to turn that down, sketchy new studio or no, especially since he’d been out of a job for five weeks now.

“And so I thought to myself, ‘Gladio sure does a lot of modeling for porn studios, wonder if we can get something of our own up and running,’ and it kinda snowballed from there,” the scene director-slash-cameraman was saying as he led him from the dressing room to the set. He was a slim blond man named Prompto, around the same age as Noctis, and obnoxiously talkative, especially at this hour of the morning. “I passed the idea by Gladio a couple months ago, and he asked Ignis, and we all decided, what the hell, we might as well give it a shot. Could be fun, y’know.”

“Yeah, fun,” Noctis said, gingerly touching his hair. He grimaced as some spikes crinkled under his fingers. “Isn’t there some kinda law against using this much hair gel?”

The look Prompto gave him was filled with sympathy. “You should see how much Ignis puts in his own hair.”

“He doesn’t model, does he?” It wasn’t so far out of the question. He’d had a _lot_ of time to study Ignis Scientia, what with him taking care of Noctis’s make-up, hair, and clothes, all over the course of two hours. The man was just as much of a looker as Gladio, just in a different way.

But Prompto shook his head. “Nope, that’s just Gladio. And between you and me,” he added, dropping his voice, “I don’t think Ignis could act to save his life, even in a porn flick.”

Noctis wasn’t sure _he_ could act either, truth be told, but that wasn’t the sort of thing he was gonna admit to a coworker before getting on camera. “How’s this gonna work, anyways?”

“Oh yeah, you’ve never done professional before, right?”

“Yeah.”

“No problem,” Prompto said. “It’s basically like amateur, except with more cameras, more people, more directing, more waiting, more lighting, more—”

“So it’s not like amateur.”

Prompto laughed and scratched the back of his neck, which would’ve been endearing except it was eight o’clock in the damn morning. “Okay, guess not. But don’t worry about it! We’re pretty relaxed around here and willing to go with the flow as long as you don’t break character too much. The most important thing is to keep it up.” He paused suddenly, thinking. “Well, I guess you’re bottoming, so maybe not. Some guys can’t, you know, they get soft as soon as—”

“Prompto.”

“Right, sorry! Basically, just make sure you don’t come until we give you the signal. Or until Gladio gives you the signal.”

“The signal?”

“You’ll know it when you get it,” Prompto said, beaming at him with a smile that was almost blinding. “He’s _great_.”

Noctis belatedly wished he’d brought shades. “First-hand experience?” he said, squinting.

“Wha—?” Prompto yelped, then tripped. He spit out a feeble laugh as he righted himself. “Haha, you’re a funny guy, you know that? Anyways, we’re here! Uh, looks like they’re still getting some of the sound equipment into position, but we should be good to go in five to ten. Need anything? Bottle of water, towel, or—?”

“Prompto, go deal with the cameras, I got him covered,” cut in a familiar voice. Gladio, coming up behind them, shoved a water bottle into Noctis’s hand. “For hydration,” he said, winking as Prompto scampered away.

… right.

Noctis hadn’t really known what to expect when he’d met Gladio. Maybe some arrogant douchebag—the guy was famous, even if only in the porn industry, and most famous people tended to be jerks, intentionally or not—but when they’d spoken earlier this morning to go over the scene blocking and story notes, he’d found that Gladio was nothing but warm, inviting, and laidback, if a little flirtatious and vain.

Not that he didn’t have a reason to be vain. Noctis let his eyes drift over Gladio’s body. The man had taken the two hours since they’d met to change out of his threadbare hoodie and sweats into a black tank top and tight leather pants that did a great job of concealing _absolutely nothing_ , neither his ass nor his junk. Which was probably the point.

“Like what you see?” Gladio said, interrupting his thoughts. Noctis twitched and flushed.

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” he said, fiddling with his water bottle. He set it down by the floor beside a pair of fold-out chairs and brushed off his hands, just to distract himself.

Gladio barked out a laugh. “No clue. Sometimes we get gay-for-pay models, since doing guy-on-guy scenes nets you more gil. Your application said you didn’t have any experience with other men, just that you were willing, so I wasn’t sure.”

“I’m willing, just never had the opportunity.”

Gladio gave him a once-over that had Noctis’s body tingling with heat and self-consciousness. “Find that hard to believe.”

Noctis felt a stab of irritation. Yeah, he’d taken the long route to figuring out his sexuality, but what about it? “Hey, I got standards,” he said. “I wasn’t gonna take any guy that threw himself my way, all right?”

“But you’ll take me.” Another smug grin.

Noctis snorted. “Nice to know your ego’s just as big as the rest of you.”

“Glad you’re impressed,” Gladio said, not missing a beat. “Anyways, all that’s good to hear. Working with straight models is a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah?”

“Hard to keep it up when you know the other guy’s not enjoying himself.”

“That’s a pretty big assumption, that I’ll enjoy myself,” Noctis said.

“What, you nervous?” Gladio shot back.

“Who, me?” Noctis said. “Yeah, right.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow, and Noctis had to look away after a few seconds. “Okay, yeah,” he admitted. “Uh, I’ve done some amateur stuff before, but…” He made a vague gesture at the cameras.

“Nothing professional.” At Noctis’s lack of response, Gladio said, “Want some advice? I’ll take care of the blocking, so just follow my lead, and pretend the cameras aren’t there. Find something else to look at.”

“Easier said than done.”

Gladio smirked. “Focus on me then.”

Noctis eyed him again. “Kinda hard not to,” he muttered, letting his eyes follow the lines and feathers of Gladio’s tattoo as they dipped and curved their way across his biceps.

“That’s the spirit,” Gladio said, chuckling. He reached out to ruffle Noctis’s hair, but before his hand could make contact, someone interrupted them.

“Don’t you _dare_ , Gladio."

Gladio’s hand froze as he glanced guiltily across the set at Ignis, who’d somehow materialized in the room without anyone noticing. A tall, lean bespectacled man who’d started off in the industry as Gladio’s agent, Ignis now, according to Prompto, handled everything in the studio that wasn’t related to acting or filming. Noctis could believe it too; Ignis had styled his hair, done his make-up, dealt with his contract, checked his medical details, handled his … well, yeah, he’d handled _everything_ except Noctis’s dick, at this point.

Not a man you wanted to upset. Thankfully, he wasn’t talking to Noctis this time.

“It took me over an hour to fix his hair,” Ignis was saying. “I won’t have you ruining it on a whim.”

“Wasn’t goin’ for his hair,” Gladio muttered, changing the trajectory of his hand to fall on Noctis’s shoulder instead. “See?”

Ignis’s nostrils flared dangerously, but they were saved from what was sure to be a scathing lecture by Prompto shouting across the room. “Guys, we’re ready! Everyone, final checks!”

Ignis threw Gladio a warning scowl. “Very well,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Do get a move on, and take up your positions. We haven’t all day.”

Gladio sketched a mock-salute with his free hand. “Yes, sir,” he said. “C’mon, Noct.”

The set was made up of a simple and bare mock-hallway with a couple of potted plants, columns, and statues. Gladio kept a hand on Noctis’s shoulder the whole way there, which normally would’ve gotten on his nerves—sure, he was new to this, but he didn’t need to be _handled_ —except he found that he really appreciated the stability right now, what with everyone’s attention suddenly focused on the two of them. The camera crew was all set up, and he knew Ignis was lurking _somewhere_ at his back, silently judging. Not to mention the sound people, and whoever the fuck else was watching.

They had Noctis starting from just off-camera. He stumbled to his place, half-helped along by Gladio as he struggled to recall how the scene was supposed to begin. Oh yeah, he was supposed to stalk down the set.

The cameras glared at him, their lenses shining with malicious light.

How the hell did someone _stalk_ anyways? Like, was he supposed to hunch over and angrily stomp his way through? Or confidently stride down the hall? And how fast was he supposed to walk? He knew where he was supposed to _stop_ —they’d covered that in the blocking session a few hours ago—but…

Fuck.

He shot a panicked look at Gladio, who was standing beside him, perfectly at ease as Prompto called out the roll.

“Sound ready?” Prompto said cheerfully.

“Set!”

The lights were blinding, and the heat of them made Noctis dizzy. Something roiled in the bottom of his stomach, and it definitely wasn’t arousal or anticipation. More like nausea, if he had to put a word to it.

“Camera ready?”

“Set!”

Gladio arched an eyebrow at him. “You good?” he said out of the corner of his mouth as Prompto signaled the camera and sound guys to start rolling.

Noctis clenched his jaw and tried to quell the queasiness in his stomach. His palms were sweating. Great. Just great. “Think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Use it,” Gladio said. “And if you forget a line, just grab me real hard and kiss me.”

“Huh?”

Clap. “Action!”

Time seemed to freeze right about then, or maybe it was just him. Fuck. The hell was he supposed to—he couldn’t—

Gladio put a hand to his back and shoved, _hard_ , and Noctis went stumbling down the hall before he even knew his legs were moving. He spun around instinctively, teeth bared. _The hell was that for?_ was on the tip of his tongue, but then Gladio was right up in his business, lacing a fist into the collar of Noctis’s shirt.

“The hell do you think you were doin’ out there?” Gladio roared. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

Shit. _Shit_. What was his line? It was hard to think with Gladio crowding him, all up in his face breathing fire. He tried to tear himself from Gladio’s grip, but Gladio was having none of it, so Noctis went with the first thing that came to mind. “Not even a thanks, huh?”

Definitely not the right line, judging by Ignis’s wince in the background, but it was apparently close enough, because the cameras kept running, and Gladio’s expression darkened. 

“I _ordered_ you to stay back,” he snarled.

Noctis’s mind raced. “You were getting your ass handed to you.”

“I had everything under control—”

“Yeah, sure looked that way to me!"

“—until you got in the damn way!”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to risk yourself for me, but I’m not allowed to do the same for you?” Noctis shot back.

Gladio made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and gave him a good, hard shake. “Your life’s not yours to risk! I’m your Shield; it’s my duty to guard you with my life. Your duty’s—”

“To my people!” Noct said. “I know, I get it! But—but you’re one of mine too, aren’t you?”

They were both shouting by then, voices raised in fear and frustration, Noctis playing off his own nervous energy and the fury radiating off the man looming over him. The silence that followed was broken only by the harsh rasp of their breathing and, he suddenly realized, the soft whirr of the cameras surrounding them. He’d completely forgotten about them in the face of Gladio’s anger, but before he could dwell on it too hard, Gladio released him, shoving him away. Noctis stumbled back at the abrupt lack of support. 

“You could’ve died,” Gladio said quietly.

“Yeah?” Noctis’s heart was pounding, but he tried not to show it as he straightened up. He licked his lips and, right on cue, Gladio’s eyes flicked down to his mouth. “Could say the same about you.”

Gladio snorted and glanced away, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a picture-perfect shot of a sulking bodyguard. “Not a chance. And even if I did, I signed up for it.”

Crap. Now what? Improvising on the spot, Noctis reached out to loop a hand through the strap of Gladio’s tank top. “Like hell you did,” he said.

Gladio’s eyes flickered down to his hand, then back up to Noctis’s face. He raised an eyebrow. Noctis wasn’t sure if that meant he was way off-script or if it was just Gladio acting, but he didn’t back down, and Gladio didn’t pull away. “Always need the last word, don’t you?”

“Yeah? Look who’s talkin’.”

Gladio huffed again, opened his mouth to retort, but whatever he was going to say was lost as Noctis got his free arm around Gladio’s neck and dragged him down into a kiss.

It was sloppier than he’d intended—their teeth clicked together, and Noctis winced—but Gladio just breathed a quiet laugh into his mouth, shoulders twitching in silent mirth as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping past Noctis’s teeth to lap at the inside of his mouth with an enthusiasm that made his stomach shiver. Definitely a better kisser than his ex, Noctis thought, curling his fingers into Gladio’s hair. He’d thought that making out with a guy would be different, but it wasn’t, not really; Gladio’s lips were soft and pliable, thinner than his ex’s, but that was a small thing. If anything was different, it was Gladio’s sheer presence, the firm planes of his body settling against Noctis’s, the stubble against his face, and the way he smelled of aftershave, leather, and sweat, undeniably masculine.

Gladio’s mouth pulled away and traveled up his jawline. “All right?” he murmured, so softly there was no way the mics could pick up his words. “I can hear you thinking.”

Noctis slid a hand under Gladio’s tank top. His palm traced the dips and curves of his abs. “Comparing you to my ex.”

A smile curled against his skin. “Better, right?”

“Haven’t decided,” Noctis said, just to rile him up.

He sucked in a breath as Gladio’s hands suddenly dropped to his ass and yanked him closer, close enough that he could shove his thigh right up against Noctis’s groin and—

“Fuck,” Noctis said, head dropping back at the flash of pleasure. His hips snapped forward, craving more contact, more pressure, _anything_.

Gladio was still smirking, the bastard. “That’s the idea,” he said, dipping in for another searing kiss before he leaned back to rip off his tank top in one smooth, sinuous motion that had all his muscles rippling in the light. Noctis stared for a second, mouth going dry, because shit, those abs were the real deal. But then Gladio was pressing back in, the ridge of his erection riding up against Noctis’s thigh, and Noctis grunted as his back thudded into the wall of the set. He hadn’t even realized that Gladio had been walking them backwards until the impact, and he was distantly aware of movement over Gladio’s shoulder as the camera crew changed positions. Normally it would’ve been nerve-wracking, but it was hard to concentrate on anything but Gladio’s tongue in his mouth, his hands on his ass, the way he was rutting up against him.

“How ‘bout some noise?” Gladio breathed against his mouth, voice low and husky.

Oh yeah, porn flick and all that. Noctis thumped his head back into the wall, dug his nails into Gladio’s back, and groaned. It wasn’t much of an act, either, not with Gladio’s hips dragging against his, sparks of heat igniting low in his gut.

“Yeah, just like that.” Gladio squeezed Noctis’s ass. “Now let’s get you outta those clothes.”

It took longer than it should’ve. Noctis didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to stop exploring the miles of hot, sweat-slick skin in front of him, but Gladio was nothing if not professional, and he stripped him down in no time. His shirt vanished off to the side, and then Gladio was tugging his pants down. He tried not to look at the looming cameras, which was really fucking difficult with one of ‘em practically shoved into his face and another level with his dick, but then it was out of time, out of mind as Gladio took him in hand and swallowed him down in one smooth motion, and oh _hell_ , his mouth was—

He wanted to look, but he was pretty sure the instant he did, he’d come right then and there. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, knotted one hand tight in Gladio’s hair and focused on giving the cameras a show.

Turned out it wasn’t that hard after all, not with whatever the hell Gladio was doing with his tongue. _Fuck_ , it sounded obscene, and Noctis probably couldn’t have helped the sounds escaping his mouth even if he’d wanted to. His legs shook from the effort of holding himself up, and it wasn’t long before his hips were jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more of that silky wet heat. Gladio didn’t stop him either, just put a hand on Noctis’s hip to guide his rhythm as he let Noctis fuck his mouth until his thighs were trembling.

Gritting his teeth, he yanked hard on Gladio’s hair. That turned out to be a bad idea, ‘cause Gladio moaned around him, and Noctis had to suck in a harsh breath. “Gladio,” he bit out. “I can’t—”

Gladio got the message, pulling back with an indecent _pop_. He looked absolutely filthy as he stood—breathing hard around swollen lips, eyes black with lust, hair in disarray, leather pants hiding nothing. He kissed him again, open-mouthed, crushing Noctis back against the wall, and Noctis moaned at the taste of himself on Gladio’s tongue.

“Wanna help me out here?” Gladio panted, guiding Noctis’s hands to his straining zipper. 

Hell, it was nice to know Noctis wasn’t the only one affected here. His fingers were unsteady as he went to work on his pants. “Shit. How’d you even get these on?”

Gladio’s chuckle was dark and ragged. He nuzzled at Noctis’s neck. “Lots of work.”

“You don’t say.” He shuddered as Gladio bit down lightly. “Quit it.”

“Still nervous?”

“They’re filming my dick, of course I’m—” He finally got the button open and pulled down the fly. “No underwear. Seriously?”

Gladio grunted as Noctis took a hold of his dick. It wasn’t all that different from his own—well, bigger, obviously—but it was someone else’s, and that made all the difference, somehow. A gust of hot, moist breath ghosted across Noctis’s cheek as he stroked it experimentally. “S’more efficient for the shoot,” Gladio managed.

“I thought this was gonna involve more cuts.”

“Yeah, usually does, but you’re doing good,” Gladio said. “Long as they can get in enough shots—” He jerked and let out a deep groan as Noctis passed his thumb over the head of his dick.

Noctis didn’t stop. “You were saying?”

Gladio let out a hoarse laugh. “All right, let’s get to the main course before we have to do this all over.”

Do this all— _oh_. Noctis smirked. “Thought you were a professional. Aren't you used to this sorta thing?”

Gladio snorted. “Hands up against the wall, Your Highness.”

His words were pitched to carry for the mic this time. Noctis was pretty sure that line wasn’t in the script either—after a certain point, the screenplay had devolved from dialogue into the highly descriptive screen direction: _Against the wall: blowjob, hand job, rimming, anal_ —but it wasn’t as if they’d been following it word-for-word up until now either.

So he just raised an eyebrow and tightened his grip, savoring the way Gladio’s breath caught, the barest edge of a groan making its way past his lips as his hips bucked forward. “Sure you can handle it? ‘Cause it looks like you might need a minute.”

Gladio didn’t roll his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched even as he batted away Noctis’s hand. “Quit stalling,” he growled, then spun Noctis around and got right down to business.

Literally. 

It was harder when he wasn’t able to see Gladio—and not harder in _that_ way, either, unfortunately. There was a camera hovering closer to his face than he’d like, its lens gleaming with judgment, and behind it, a woman watching, lips pursed in clinical focus as she squinted at the digital screen in front of her. Noctis swallowed and ducked his head, bracing himself against the wall with his forearms. She’d probably seen everything before. No use getting embarrassed at this point in the game, not with Gladio practically breathing down his rear, hands curving around his cheeks to spread him wide and open.

Knowing what was next, Noctis tensed at the whisper of warm breath and the soft scrape of stubble against his skin, the slow, hot press of Gladio’s lips against the top of his ass. He clenched his teeth and shifted a little. “You gonna eat me out before dinner or what?”

There was soft huff, followed by a sharp, sudden pain as Gladio nipped him in response. Then, before Noctis could even get a word in edgewise, Gladio dipped his tongue right into Noctis’s crack.

Noctis let out a short, ragged sound he hadn’t even known he could make, shoving backwards into Gladio’s face. It was probably rude as hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not right now with Gladio’s tongue lapping at him, warm and wet and absolutely fucking _relentless_.

It wasn’t the sort of thing that Noctis had expected to actually feel good. Weird, maybe, but good? Nah.

Showed what he knew. “Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck. Yeah, like that.”

He felt more than heard Gladio’s chuckle rumbling through him and couldn’t contain his groan as Gladio began to coax him open, each confident, firm push of his tongue sending a spike of heady pleasure lancing straight through his gut. It wasn’t enough though, not _nearly_ enough, but Gladio didn’t rush it, taking his own sweet time as he drove Noctis fucking _insane_ with nothing but his mouth. Before too long, Noctis’s legs were wobbling, and his vision was cloudy with sweat. When Gladio finally replaced his tongue with his fingers, cool and slick with lubricant, Noctis rocked back against them with a relieved hiss, reaching down to jerk himself off. 

Gladio grabbed his wrist with his free hand. “Not yet, Your Highness.”

Noctis couldn’t contain his snarl of frustration. “Fuck me already,” he said, tugging his hand free to brace himself more firmly against the wall. “I already prepped, so just—” He hissed as Gladio’s fingers withdrew, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Bossy,” Gladio said, but Noctis heard the tear of a wrapper and the lewd squirt of more lube. Then the hot, firm weight of Gladio’s chest settled against his back, his dick riding up against the cleft of Noctis’s ass in the most frustrating way possible, gliding up and down teasingly. Noctis bucked his hips back, craving it, craving _more_. It turned out to be the right move going by the way Gladio’s breath hitched at the pressure. “You ready?”

More than. “Shove it in already,” Noctis growled. “And that’s an order.”

Gladio laughed, his breath fanning across the top of Noctis’s hair. “As you command.”

And Noctis _was_ ready—ready as he was ever gonna be, anyways, getting his first dick up the ass in front of a billion cameras—but then he felt the head of Gladio’s dick pressing in, and it was fucking _huge_. He dragged in a breath between gritted teeth, trying not to let out the ragged groan trapped in his throat, but it was hopeless. He heard himself break, a long, thin, drawn-out moan that didn’t sound anything like his usual voice spilling from his mouth as Gladio slid in, inch by painstaking inch.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Gladio said, voice strained. He reached around to stroke Noctis’s flagging erection a few times, palm slippery with sweat and lubricant. “Should’ve used more lube.”

“Ya think?” Noctis rasped out. Sweat dripped down his face. He felt split wide-open, vulnerable, delirious; everything was too hot, too sensitive, jolts of pain and pleasure sending him careening towards the edge of _too damn much_.

“Didn’t want to risk execution,” Gladio muttered. He pulled out a little bit, then pushed back in. Repeated the motion, working up a slow rhythm that, with all its gentleness, still made Noctis feel like the air was getting punched outta his lungs with every roll of Gladio’s hips. “Relax, Noct.”

“The hell,” Noctis said, jaw aching, “do you think I’m trying to do?” One of his forearms, slippery with sweat, skidded down the wall. “Just… hurry the hell up.”

“Breathe.”

Noctis would’ve laughed if he could. “What is this, yoga class?”

“If you don’t relax, I can’t—”

Fuck it, he was tearin’ off this bandage. Noctis ground backwards, clenching his muscles as tight as he could around Gladio’s shaft, and was rewarded by a rich, hoarse groan as Gladio thrust forward and buried himself as deep as he could in Noctis’s body.

“Fuck,” Gladio panted after a second, sounding for all the world as if he’d just run a marathon.

Noctis didn’t answer, still trying to adjust to the foreign sensation of being filled. He’d used his fingers before in the past, but _this_ —having someone else’s dick in his ass, hot and heavy and solid—was way different from fingering himself. It hurt more, for one thing, but already, the pain was fading away to a dull throbbing ache as his body stretched to accommodate the fit.

“All right there?” Gladio said, voice husky. His hand, still wrapped around Noctis’s dick, was moving again, up and down, nice and slow in long, firm strokes.

Noctis swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, finding his voice. “Move.”

“Soon as the cameras are in position,” Gladio said. “They want a good shot of my ass.”

“They ever get enough shots of your ass?”

“Nah.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”

“That’s another scene.”

And hell if that answer didn’t get him going, even better than Gladio’s hand on him. Noctis pictured Gladio on a bed beneath him, legs hooked tight over his shoulders as he shoved deep into his body. He could practically _hear_ him, too, the sounds he’d make, low and rich and cracked through with pleasure as Noctis spread his legs and fucked him through the mattress. His dick twitched back to life. He licked his lips. “Didn’t see that scene on the list.”

“Yeah, well,” Gladio said, stroking him a couple more times before releasing his erection to grab at his hip, “if you’re interested, I can have Iggy draw you up another contract after we’re done today.” And then he must’ve gotten some sort of signal, because he finally, _finally_ , chanced one long, deep roll of his hips forward—and then another. And another.

It was strange how good it felt after the initial pain, the heat and drag of Gladio’s dick as it rubbed over all the sensitive nerves inside him. Noctis groaned through the growing haze of pleasure settling back over his senses and clutched uselessly at the wall for purchase as Gladio rocked into him, building up a rhythm. He tried to press back against Gladio’s hands, but the bastard had a firm grip. “This how you typically negotiate business deals?” Noctis panted.

Gladio laughed hoarsely, not breaking his rhythm. “You’d be surprised.”

No, not really. Gladio could’ve said anything right now, and Noctis would’ve believed him. He wished they were doing this face-to-face in a private bed instead of like this, though, up against a studio wall with everyone watching. Was Gladio as tense as he was, pleasure coursing through every tight line of his body, igniting with every thrust, or was this just more of the same to him, some pleasure but mostly business?

It wasn’t something he wanted to think about now, so he let himself drown in the sensations instead: the way Gladio’s chest stuck to his back; the strong pressure of his fingers digging into his hips; his breath fanning over his hair, sharp and fast and erratic; and the jagged noises escaping his throat, audible over the sharp slap of skin as Gladio picked up the pace. Noctis felt his orgasm building under the waves of pleasure. Then Gladio was pulling on his waist, urging him a little further out from the wall, guiding his legs wider apart.

“That’s it,” he grunted before he slammed back in with a sharp thrust that had Noctis seeing _stars_.

“Gods!” Noctis choked out.

“Only human, but I’ll take it,” Gladio said. His voice was dark and contorted with lust, his grip practically bruising as he continued to pound into him, relentlessly angling for the same spot, until all Noctis was aware of was the pressure coiling in his abdomen, tugging at the head of his dick, and oh _fuck_ , he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back—

“Gladio,” he gritted out. “I think—”

“Get yourself off,” Gladio growled into his ear.

He groaned with relief when he reached down between his own legs and started jerking himself off. He was so fucking close that it didn’t take much, just five or six strokes before his orgasm ripped through him and he was coming with a wordless cry. Gladio followed him with a loud groan, his hips pumping a few more times before he buried himself right up to the hilt and shuddered, breathing hard into Noctis’s hair.

“Fuck,” Gladio said after a moment, sweaty and heavy and perfect against his back. “That was hot.”

“Yeah, well,” Noctis said, boneless and limp, crushed against the wall with come dripping down his fingers. “Guess I gotta risk my life more often if this is how you’re gonna punish me.”

Gladio actually laughed at that. “Smartass,” he said. He pulled out, leaving Noctis feeling empty, cold, and filthy, but then Gladio was turning him around, and his tongue was in Noctis’s mouth again, hot and languid. It was hard to think about anything after that, except—

“You just had your tongue up my ass,” Noctis said when Gladio broke the kiss.

Gladio had the decency to look a little sheepish about it, but before he could reply, Prompto’s chipper voice shattered the peace: “And cut!”

\---

They were allowed thirty minutes to freshen up before they had to go back on-set to reshoot bits of the scene. Prompto ushered Noctis away to the restroom to get cleaned up, babbling on about how _great_ he’d been and the types of cuts he was thinking about making while Noctis got dressed and tried his best to make himself look less like a sexed-up mess. He didn’t think he was successful, but hey, at least there was mouthwash.

When he returned to the set, Gladio was chatting with Ignis, bare-chested but clad in his tight leather pants again, a white towel slung carelessly over his shoulders. He motioned Noctis over to the pair of fold-out chairs and passed over the water bottle from earlier, dropping down beside him to clap a hand on his back. 

“Now _that_ ,” he said, grinning, “was some damn good improv.”

“Yeah, I know,” Noctis said nonchalantly, still riding the high. He sipped at his water, trying to get rid of the taste of mint lingering on his tongue. Ignis, meanwhile, started to fuss over his hair again.

“You have an acting background or something?” Gladio said. “Theater?” 

“Nah.”

“Can you believe that, Iggy? Think we struck gold here.”

Ignis made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “I admit I thought this would be a wasted take as soon as you departed from the script, but it seems you’ve proven me wrong.”

Was that … a compliment? “Um, sorry?”

Gladio snorted. “Don’t apologize to him. He’s just annoyed we have to rewrite the script—which we’re gonna do, _right_?”

There was an annoyed sigh as Ignis tugged on his hair, harder than was necessary. “The pacing and character arcs—”

“Iggy, this ain’t high literature.”

“Nevertheless, we should include more of a build-up,” Ignis said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Anticipation can be its own reward.”

Gladio chuckled and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “For you, maybe. But this is _Final Fantasy XXX_. Our audience won’t care about any arcs. They’re watching for the finish line.”

Noctis choked. “ _That’s_ the title?” he said after he’d finished hacking out his lungs. It hadn’t been written anywhere on the screenplay he’d gotten.

“ _Working_ title,” Ignis said.

Gladio narrowed his eyes at Noctis. “What, you don’t like it either?”

“I get the fantasy part, but why’s it final? Unless it’s the last thing you guys are making.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ignis said. “It’s utterly ridiculous.”

“No, but imagine my voiceover,” Gladio said. He cleared his throat. “‘For old fappers and new fappers alike: it’s the final fantasy you’ll _ever_ need to watch.’”

Ignis made a noise that sounded suspiciously like strangled laughter. “That’s—”

“Genius?”

“Cheesy,” Noctis said. “I don’t know if _I’d_ watch something like that.”

“Spoken like a true connoisseur of pornography,” Ignis said. “Don’t move.”

He stepped back and circled around Noctis, studying him with a critical eye. It was like getting assessed by a hungry coeurl. Noctis held his breath. “It’ll have to do,” Ignis said finally, though his voice was laden with dissatisfaction. “If we had another half-hour, perhaps I could—”

“It’s fine,” Gladio said, waving a hand. “If anyone’s hair got messed up, it’s mine.”

“Your hair doesn’t take two hours to style.”

“Yeah, just get me a brush or comb or something.”

Ignis frowned. “I’m your agent, Gladio, not your personal valet.”

Understatement of the year. If anything, Ignis was the valet for the _whole studio_ and probably the only person keeping it from going under within a week, Noctis thought. But Gladio just shot Ignis a warm, winning smile. “I’ll make it up to you later, Iggy. I promise.”

Apparently not even Ignis was immune to Gladio’s charm. He sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who asked himself daily how he’d made such poor life decisions. “Very well,” he said. “Noctis, if you would excuse me.”

“Yeah…” Noctis watched him disappear in the direction of the dressing room, then glanced at Gladio, frowning. “Is he…? Are you two…?”

“He’s just like that,” Gladio said smoothly, leaning towards Noctis. “Anyways, thought I’d give you a heads-up. I talked to Ignis while you were in the restroom about that contract extension.”

Noctis blinked. “Yeah?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah. He thinks it’s a good idea. He still needs to go over the budgeting, which is why he hasn’t said anything to you about it yet, but he’s pretty sure it’ll work out—and just in case you’re worried, when Iggy’s ‘pretty sure,’ that means the offer’s basically on the table.” Gladio’s expression turned sly. “Might be we could even make it a permanent position if it works out and you’re interested.”

Noctis stopped breathing. “What?” he croaked.

“Course,” Gladio said, pulling away a little, and it was incredible how someone could make five inches feel like five _miles_ , “you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“Are you kidding me?” Noctis said when his mouth had finally caught up to his brain. “Hell, yeah, I wanna take it.”

Gladio grinned. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he said, the distance disappearing as he leaned back in to clap Noctis on the shoulder again. “Good to have you onboard, Noct.”

“Good to be onboard,” Noctis said with a disbelieving laugh. His mind was still reeling, trying to catch up with what just happened and struggling to put together some words, _any_ words, of thanks when Prompto whistled to them from across the studio.

“Actors! In position!”

“Fucking Prompto,” Gladio said, standing up and stretching with a groan. “That’s our cue. You ready?” he said.

Noctis looked over at the set, bustling with activity and cameras, then back at Gladio standing beside him, eyes warm with encouragement. “Yeah,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Yeah, I am.”


End file.
